


Hear Me

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry may be deaf but he can certainly hear Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

They walk hand in hand through downtown, fingers interlocked and exchanging lazy smiles. The sun beats down on the top of their heads, warming their hair almost uncomfortably. People are bustling about, rushing to get to where they need to go. But Louis and Harry are in no hurry, content with going a turtle’s pace when everyone around is more like a hare’s pace.

 

They spend the afternoon just wandering around, having no real place to be. They’re just happy to spend their free time together.

 

 

Their day ends when the sun begins to set. Louis worries about Harry being out after dark, even with someone. Harry’s always so unaware, even with heightened senses.

 

 

Crossing the doorway, Harry collapses in silent giggles. Louis cherishes these moments, watching the younger boy let go of himself. Louis smiles devilishly, picking up the younger boy in his arms and carrying him to their couch. He throws Harry down before attacking his sides with his fingers. Harry lets out an audible laugh, dimples set deep in his cheeks and mouth wide open. His eyes crinkle with the smile, full of happiness and joy.

Louis ceases his fingers for a short moment to allow them both to breathe. Harry takes advantage of the pause to shove Louis off and onto his back. Their positions are switched, Harry now straddling Louis. Harry’s eyes are full of mischief. 

 

Louis braces himself for the attack, prepared for Harry’s fingers on his side. What he’s not prepared for is Harry’s cool fingers on his warm torso. Harry slides his fingers under Louis’ shirt, feeling how soft, warm, and strong it is.

 

 

Harry’s always had sort of a thing for Louis’ skin, how it’s so unmarked by blemishes. The younger boy is so envious of how Louis tans so easily and admires how he can manage to keep that tan, even during the winter.

 

 

Louis has a thing for Harry’s fingers and hands, especially when they’re touching him. So he allows Harry to explore his body, fingers light and pale against him.

 

 

When Harry’s done, he sits back on his heels and waits for Louis to sit up as well. When Louis is upright again, Harry takes his hand and leans his head on the boy’s shoulder. It’s comfortable and natural and so familiar. Louis hums and though Harry can’t hear it, he feels it, the vibration running through his body, starting at his head and ending at his toes. 

 

 

Louis vibrates so much energy, even when they’re just sitting and relaxing. It’s like even when he’s not moving, he’ still moving. That’s one of the things Harry loves so much about him, the way he can light up a room just by entering it. 

 

 

Harry could go on forever about what he loves about Louis, from the way he’s made Harry blossom out of his shell to the way he dances in his underwear when he’s getting ready in the morning. Harry looks up to Louis like he made the earth, the sun, and the moon - he can’t help it, he just admires the Doncaster-bred boy. 

 

 

Louis opts for turning on the television, the subtitles at the bottom something he’s gotten used to over the years. It used to bother him when someone watched the telly and subtitles were on - they were only something to distract him from the action. Now he respects anyone who can read both the subtitles and focus on whatever else is  happening on screen. 

 

 

They settle in for a long night, full of popcorn wars and hot chocolate and a movie marathon and falling asleep in each others’ arms. By midnight, they’re both sound asleep, the blanket tangled in both of their legs. Louis has got his arm wrapped around Harry’s middle while Harry has his head tipped back and resting on Louis’ strong shoulder. One would think it to be uncomfortable, but it works for them.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Louis never knows what he’s going to find when he comes home. Harry’s unpredictable that way. One day he’ll be perfectly fine, waiting with a cup of tea for when Louis gets home from work. Other days he’s a screaming mess, only getting more frustrated at the fact that he can’t hear himself. 

 

 

On the days where Harry is fine, in the kitchen making dinner or doing something normal, Louis finds himself happy that he’s found someone to spend the rest of his life with. And when Harry is not so fine, Louis comforts him and is glad he found Harry so the younger boy has someone to look after him. He’s so much more broken than he wants people to think, all his hurt bundled up inside. Louis is lucky Harry let’s him see it, let’s him help in any way he can.

 

 

There are many ways to comfort an upset Harry, ones that work better than others. He likes having his shoulder massaged, the kinks worked out of them. On rainy days, he liked sitting on their giant window seat in Louis’ painting studio and reading, snuggled into Louis’ arms. There were times when he wanted everything in the apartment to be shut off, lights and everything. He’d sit in the dark and hold Louis’ hand and whimper and sob and cry and scream until the fight was drained out of him. But the way that worked best was a good old fashioned blow job from Louis. 

 

 

Harry sometimes felt like he couldn’t enjoy sex, not being able to hear Louis’ moans and pleas and whines. He couldn’t moan Louis’ name, so he felt like he was depriving Louis of something as well. Louis assured the younger boy that yes, he enjoyed the sex very much. If his…words weren’t enough, in bed they often went for multiple rounds. Over the years, their endurance built quite a bit. And while Harry enjoyed the actual sex, he much preferred the blowjobs before hand usually.

 

 

Harry liked giving them, there was no denying his mouth was perfect for it. But he liked it even more being the receiving end, feeling Louis moan and having the moan vibrate through his entire body. He could get off on the moans coursing through his body alone - they truly shook him to the core. He didn’t usually last long  with Louis giving him head, the Doncaster-born boy was always finding new ways to mix it up.

 

 

Louis was just happy to please. And afterwards they’d share a cup of tea and pretend Harry was okay and they were the type of family you saw on television all the time.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

They weren’t a typical family, though, some people going as far to say they weren’t a family and never would be. Louis made sure Harry never got wind of the disgusting things people said when they walked down the street, instead using the techniques his acting class taught him and pretended everything was okay. People were truly disgusting and ignorant, not understanding that they wouldn’t have chosen to be mocked like this, instead would have opted for a more traditional life.

 

 

It wasn’t only the bad things that set them apart from most families. Harry was deaf and mute - save for the occasional giggle and the frequent screaming. Louis was not normal at all. Or maybe he was, but he was normal in the ways that made him abnormal, if that makes sense. He liked to dance around in his underwear while getting dressed in the morning and sang into his hairbrush. He liked having his hair petted and played with, and he made the weirdest - almost sexual sounding - noises whenever someone touched his feet.

 

 

They were an odd pair, and their friends were even weirder. Niall was loud and obnoxious and laughed too much, even at things that weren’t funny or meant to be funny. Liam was sensible and responsible and needed to loosen up and have a good time - probably needed a good lay too. Zayn was quiet and moody and always appeared to be judging you, no matter what you were doing. They made an eccentric group, causing trouble and wrecking havoc wherever they went.

 

 

And while they were mix and matched, argued and bickered, and could never seem to agree on anything, they always stood up for each other. So when someone shouted at Louis and Harry for being faggots - at which Harry did not understand what was going on - Zayn turned around and popped the guy in the jaw. And Liam sensibly explained - like he did everything - to a waitress who refused to serve Harry because he wouldn’t order his own food. She was flustered and embarrassed and apologized profusely when she learned of his impairment and their meal was free. Niall tried his best to do what he could, but he was as terrifying as a baby penguin; which needless to say, is not very terrifying.

 

 

They worked and that’s all that mattered. 

 

 

\- - -

 

 

And Harry cherished the moments when Louis held him because it felt right and the world was okay and nothing could hurt him. Sure, Louis shielded him from all the evil in the world, but that only meant he cared. Louis’ arms were strong around him and he smelled nice and Harry didn’t care that he couldn’t hear Louis’ sighs, didn’t know what they sounded like and never would. He felt them, they ran through his veins like a drug. 

 

 

Louis was Harry’s drug and Harry was Louis’ drug and they loved each other and nothing else affected them.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Harry wakes up, his comforter fluffy and warm around him. He’s naked but doesn’t smell like sex, so it’s safe to assume he just stripped and fell asleep. Louis is beside him and sometime during the night they’ve untangled their arms but kept their legs entwined. Louis’ back is to the curly haired boy, so he begins to massage the muscled skin. 

 

 

Louis’ eyes flutter open and he rolls over, greeted with Harry’s smiling face. He kisses the younger boy, soft and easy and not minding the morning breath. They break apart and Harry sees Louis sigh, his chest heaving and falling more than if he were just breathing. Harry lifts up his right hand and begins to sign, asking if Louis wanted to make breakfast with him and they could just stay home all day.

 

 

Louis really loves watching Harry sign, concentrating on the way Harry’s fingers moved so nimbly through the air. Louis nods and tugs Harry out of bed, tossing him a random pair of boxers and pulling some on himself. They make their way to the kitchen, hand in hand of course, and Louis watches while Harry prepares them pancakes and eggs and bacon and sausage - enough to feed an army. Or a Niall. They’ll have leftovers but Niall will be sure to eat them out of house and home.

 

 

They stay in all day, never bothering to get dressed. At night Louis drags a sleepy Harry to bed and makes slow love to him and comes when Harry signs how much he cares for Louis - yeah, Louis has a thing for Harry’s fingers. They fall asleep after taking a shower and washing each other off. Tomorrow they’ll have to go out and face the hate and the stares and Louis interpreting for Harry and the cold looks but for now they’re content with just snuggling. 

 

 

Yeah, they’re an odd pair.

 

 

But it works for them.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry may be deaf, but he can certainly hear Louis.

Harry liked to consider himself a pretty average person. He wakes up in the morning and does the same old thing every day. He loves the same person. He eats the same food. He watches the same movies. Really, he’s less than average - he’s boring.

Harry never voiced his opinions to Louis, afraid of what he would say. They didn’t really communicate with words anyway, preferring to use their eyes and actions and just…they understood each other without words anyway.

 

 

 

Like the way Louis would gently brush against Harry in public places, just to make sure Harry knew he was there. Or when Harry would stare into Louis’ eyes, portraying how much he really loved the older boy. It was simple things Louis did for Harry as well, that made him really just want to never leave Louis’ arms, like, ever again. 

 

 

 

Louis always went out of his way to make Harry smile, finding new ways to do so almost every day. He’d try and cook Harry breakfast, only to fail and almost set their kitchen on fire and forcing them to order pizza. Or he’d clean up after himself in the bathroom, knowing one of Harry’s pet peeves was when he left things sitting around. Louis just made an effort to somehow be the best thing that happens to Harry all day, no matter what kind of day he just went through.

 

 

 

Louis didn’t care about what people thought of him and that’s something Harry has always admired of the boy. He didn’t deal with people’s bull shit, going around and doing his own thing. Harry’s never been able to do that.

 

 

 

Before Louis, Harry was insecure about himself - he still is, but not as much. When he went out in public, he slouched his shoulders and crossed his arms across his chest and kept his head down. He was afraid that people could see the things he hated about himself; being deaf and gay. And he was so worried about what people would think about him and so scared that no one would ever love him. It came as a shock when Louis appeared in his life.

 

 

 

And after Louis, Harry’s suddenly become so much more certain about himself. He doesn’t slouch as much - he still does, but that’s only because it’s habit after years of doing it. He smiles much more, which Louis loves because he gets to see Harry’s dimples. They make each other happy just by being in the others’ presence.

 

 

 

\- - -

 

 

 

Harry rolls out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He smells the scent of bacon coming from the general direction of the kitchen, so he goes that way. He tries to make himself quiet, he hopes he’s quiet, because Louis has complained that he’s too loud in the morning. Maybe he’s not successful because Louis turns around with a smile, plate of bacon in his hand. It’s the only thing he can make, so Harry makes sure that whatever else he cooks for breakfast goes along with bacon well.

 

 

 

Harry takes the plate from Louis’ hands and sets it down on the counter. Louis’ smile only grows when Harry wraps his arms around the smaller lad. They stand in each others’ arms for a heartbeat more before Harry’s stomach grumbles. 

 

 

 

Louis laughs, a sound Harry really wants to be able to hear, and steals a piece of bacon to go sit at the table. It’s their morning routine; Louis will make bacon, Harry will wake up and finish making breakfast, they’ll eat together, and go do whatever they have planned for the day. 

 

 

 

Harry makes them a lovely meal of French toast and they eat in silence, as they do most mornings. Louis holds Harry’s hand across the table, his palm surprising soft against Louis’ calloused hands. Their house is always quiet, Louis has come to realize, no matter how loud he is. There’s something about Harry that makes him want to be quiet.

 

 

 

And while Louis has changed Harry, Harry has changed Louis as well. Louis’ become more subdued, preferring to sit at home and read a book over going out and partying. His friends take the piss out of him for it, calling him a girl and telling him he’s lost his man card, but Louis knows they understand. Before, Louis couldn’t settle down, never staying with one person for over a month or two. He’s been with Harry a little over a year now and they’re still in the honeymoon phase.

 

 

 

They finish up their breakfast quickly, Louis signing that he’s going to go take a quick shower. Harry whimpers, low in the back of his throat, and grabs Louis’ hand to keep him from going. Louis rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what Harry wants. He tugs his hand, pulling Harry out of his chair and down the hallway with him. Harry’s steps are loud but Louis doesn’t really mind, having grown used to them. 

 

 

 

Louis pulls them all the way to their bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind them. He turns to start the water, turning it to a mild temperature that he knows Harry likes. When he pivots back around, Harry’s around naked and Louis can’t say he’s surprised. Harry’s always naked - he says stripping is liberating (at this Louis told him that maybe he should have become a stripper. Harry replied that no body would come to watch him. Louis protested and finally won because Harry was submissive and did not like arguments in the least.) 

 

 

 

Louis takes his time removing his clothing, almost drowning in the feeling of smugness he gets as he watches Harry watch him. Louis winks before opening up the shower curtain and stepping in, letting the water relax his muscles. He feels Harry behind him but he doesn’t turn around. Harry presses his chest to Louis’ back, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s middle. For a few moments they just stand there, water running over their bodies. But Harry breaks them out of their spell by reaching around Louis to grab the shampoo. Louis knows what he’s doing.

 

 

 

Harry always loves having his hair washed by someone else, letting their fingers massage his scalp. Louis takes the shampoo bottle and Harry smiles gratefully - he’s lucky to have the Doncaster lad. Louis begins washing Harry’s hair, fingers starting out light but gradually putting more pressure. Harry purrs like a cat and Louis doubts the boy even knows he does that. Harry reminds Louis of a cat, if he’s honest, especially when they take showers together. 

 

 

 

Louis let’s Harry know he should close his eyes by gently pushing the curly haired boy back into the spray of water. He runs his fingers through Harry’s hair still, trying to make sure he gets every last bit of the shampoo. Harry just trusts Louis to do so, totally relaxed in his stance.

 

 

 

Harry does the same for Louis, only he tugs on the smaller man’s hair. Louis loves it when he does that, loves it when Harry does anything like that. Louis is not sure why, but he just does. They finish up quickly after that, the water starting to turn cold.

 

 

 

They step out, shivering at how cold it is now. Goosebumps rise on their skin and Louis warms them up by wrapping them both up in one fluffy towel. Harry wraps an arm around Louis and steers him to the bedroom where they help each other pick out their outfits for the day. It’s one of their favorite things to do, trying to match their clothes with each other. Yeah, they fit gay stereotypes, what about it?

 

 

 

When they’re finished getting ready, Louis checks the time on his phone, noting that they had just over ten minutes to go meet the boys at Starbucks. They leave the house, Louis locking the door behind them (ever the responsible one). Harry grabs Louis’ hand, always nervous when leaving the house. Louis squeezes his hand reassuringly and they stroll slowly.

 

 

 

Harry signs about how he misses his family, commenting that they should go visit for the holidays. Louis agrees easily, keeping his eyes set on Harry’s fingers twisting through the air. When Louis first met Harry, he had only known the alphabet and stupid signs like potato and coffee and cat. He had found it difficult to keep up with Harry’s signing, but Harry helped him, spending hours just going over signs. Their friendship started out easy and over those hours of bonding they fell in love. Louis smiles at the memories and is grateful that he now can keep up with Harry’s fast-paced signing.

 

 

 

They’re just about to reach the Starbucks when a voice comes from behind them. Louis stops suddenly, so quickly that Harry doesn’t realize at first that he’s supposed to stop moving as well. He pulls Louis forward a few inches and then stops, giving Louis a quizzical look. Louis only shakes his head.

 

 

 

“Aye, look, if it isn’t my two favorite faggots.”

 

 

 

Louis knows that voice. And it always brings trouble with it.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry may be deaf but he can certainly hear Louis.

Harry is confused on why they’re stopping, the cafe is right there! He continues to sit in his own little world of confusion even as Louis turns them both around to face a short little man. Louis let’s go of his hand and Harry drops it to the side, palm already feeling cold and missing the feeling of Louis’ calloused fingers. Harry watches intently as Louis goes up to the man, standing about three inches taller than him. While Louis is taller, the man is thicker and more muscular. Harry wouldn’t like to be punched by him.

Harry watches silently (not that he could really watch any other way than make a few odd noises) as Louis talks to the man. Harry’s horrible at reading lips so that’s out of the question. He focuses on watching their body language instead, watching Louis’ angry hand motions and how he stands slumped over, submissive. The other man stands tall, and somehow he seems to tower over Louis despite his small size - he oozes confidence from the way his shoulders are back to how lazily his arms are crossed to the look in his eyes.

The man starts to get angry, clenching and unclenching his hands, digging his fingernails into his forearms where his arms are still crossed over his chest. Louis appears even more afraid, if that’s possible, shrinking backward and taking a couple steps back. His shoulders hunch, his back curving downward and spine arched. The man finally drops his arms to his side, right hand still clenched in a tight fist. Louis flinches when the man takes a few steps forward, but all he does is push Louis out of the way.

Louis realizes what the man is doing before Harry does, rushes over and tries to stop it, but it’s too late. Harry tries to put his hands in front of his face quickly, but it’s not use as the man’s fist connects with his face. He can feel himself let out a whimper of pain, but that’s all the sounds he’s able to release before the man’s punching him again, harder than the last time. Louis is trying to stop the man, pulling on his arm - but it’s no use, Louis’s too weak. The man repeatedly punches Harry, his lips set in a scowl, anger and disgust evident in his dark blue eyes. 

Harry is feeling the fight leave him, arms now hung limp at his sides as he let’s the man continue to use him as a punching bag. Harry wishes he was able to hear what’s going on around as the punches stop - instead, steady arms wrap around him. Wait, no, they’re not steady; they’re shaking, trembling, holding Harry tight like he’s going to fall to pieces on the ground. He feels kisses being pressed to the back of his head, warm breath tickling the skin covered by dark curls. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, letting himself be comforted by someone who needs comfort themselves.

He’s not sure how it happens, but soon enough Harry’s home, lying a familiar bed. His head is throbbing painfully, but other than that he feels fine. He realizes he’s naked, the sheets soft against his sweaty skin. Rolling out of bed, Harry kicks the sheets off of him and reaches blindly for a pair of sweatpants. He pulls them on, taking note that they’re Louis’ and a bit shorter than his would be. Harry walks down the hall, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He’s not sure if anyone is home - unable to hear sounds of Louis in the kitchen or living room or anywhere else - but he doubts Louis would leave him alone now. Sure enough, Harry finds the older boy curled up in his favorite arm chair, book in one hand, cup of tea in the other.

Louis looks up at the sounds of Harry’s not so quiet footsteps tentative smile making its way to his lips. 

He sets down both the book and cup of tea on the floor beside the chair, standing up and making his way to Harry. He stands about a foot away, lifting his hands into the air and signing, “ _How do you feel_?”

Harry shrugs, not wanting to worry Louis. But Louis can tell when Harry is lying - Harry’s like an open book and Louis’s just good at reading people. 

“ _Tell me, Harry_.” Louis’ hands are nimble through the air, years of practice making his fingers quick and graceful. Louis is Harry’s favorite person to hold a conversation with, his words sliding together easily and clear to read. “ _Do you want some painkillers?_ ” Harry nods now, the throbbing in his head too painful to ignore.

“ _Please_.” Harry rubs his hand quick across his chest, his fingers sliding easily over the smooth skin there in the familiar circular manner. Harry finds himself signing ‘please’ a lot, surprised his fingers haven’t melted off from the friction of rubbing his palms over his chest so many times. 

Louis reacts almost instantly, sliding his fingers on Harry’s arm as he passes, the movement so natural neither of them takes notice of it. Harry only has to wait for not even a minute before Louis is back with two tablets and a glass of water. Harry signs a quick ‘thank you’ and swallows the pills down easily. Louis kisses the younger boy’s forehead, getting some of the curls in his mouth. He mocks spitting and Harry giggles, pulling Louis to him for a hug. 

Louis walks them backwards blindly, trying to find the couch. The back of Harry’s knees hit the soft cushions and the both collapse in a mass of limbs and smiles and breathless laughter. Louis lies with his head on Harry’s chest, Harry’s fingers carded through Louis’ hair, fingertips scratching lightly at his scalp. Louis purrs, and Harry can feel it against his chest, making its way to spread across his body, warming him up from head to toe. He shivers in pleasure but Louis looks up worriedly. 

‘Something wrong?’ his eyes seem to ask, pout forming on his lips. Harry shakes his head, no, lazy smile on his lips. The sun filters in through the window, warming up Louis’ back and he sits up just enough to take his shirt off. When he goes to lie back down, Harry shakes his head again, running his hands down Louis’ toned stomach, palms warm against Louis’ surprising cool stomach. When Harry reaches the waistband of Louis’ sweatpants, he doesn’t even hesitate before slipping his hands in. Feeling restricted as he tries to run his hands down Louis’ thigh, but he can’t, Harry easily slips Louis sweatpants to his knees. 

It didn’t even begin as sexual, Harry just really likes touching Louis, but now Louis’ hardening, his cock swelling against Harry, and Harry can’t help himself from being turned on as well. Harry runs his hands lightly down Louis’ thighs, palms being tickled by the hair there, and stops when he reaches Louis’ knees, running his hands back up again. Louis shudders, goose bumps rising on his skin. Harry trails his fingers delicately on the inside of Louis’ thighs, avoiding Louis’ hard dick until he finally can’t any more, spitting in his hand and taking Louis’ length in his palm. 

Harry pumps his hand, muscles working as he builds up speed. Louis loves watching Harry with his hand around a dick - whether it be his own dick or Louis’ dick, it doesn’t really matter. The way his hand is big enough to fit around Louis’ length, fingers long and thin. And how the muscles in his arm flex and relax as he pumps - surely his right arm has to be stronger than his left arm. Louis is mesmerised by Harry’s entire right arm, from his fingertips, gently squeezing his length when he pumps up, to his shoulder moving up and down, up and down. Without any warning, Louis spills all over Harry’s fingertips, collapsing in a heap on the younger boy’s chest.

Harry goes to reach over for a tissue, but Louis stops him, gripping Harry’s wrist. Louis brings Harry’s hand over to his lips, taking the digits into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around Harry’s fingers, just loving how they’re so long and his fingernails gently scratch his tongue when he goes to roll the muscle over Harry’s fingertips. He moans the best he can, with almost Harry’s entire hand in his mouth.

With his free hand, Louis signs, “ _Want me to do this to your dick_?” And Harry is nodding so eagerly Louis just wants to die of happiness. Louis slides his way down Harry’s body, trailing his lips lightly across the bare skin, before swiftly pulling down Harry’s (actually Louis’, but names are just technicalities) sweatpants. Harry’s dick springs free, red and hard and leaking pre-cum. Louis doesn’t eve hesitate before taking Harry’s cock in his mouth, moaning at the taste. 

He swirls his tongue languidly around the head, sucking gently. He whimpers - it’s been too long since he was able to do this for Harry, been too long since they could actually have a moment to themselves. He slowly takes in more of Harry, making sure to moan because he knows Harry really gets off on feeling the vibrations run through his dick and spread through his body. He goes down until he can feel Harry’s dick bump the back of his throat and he pulls off again with a pop - not that Harry can hear it. He doesn’t even give himself enough time to take a breath before he’s diving in again, going all the way this time. He relaxes his throat, hallows out his cheek, and breathes through his nose - his breath tickles Harry’s skin as Louis’ nose in buried in the younger boy’s trimmed hair. 

Louis begins to bob his head, moaning dramatically (which Harry actually giggles at, albeit a little breathlessly, as he has learned to be able to tell the difference of the feeling of real moans compared to fake ones). It doesn’t even take all that long before Harry’s coming and Louis’ swallowing every last drop.  He pulls off of Harry, afraid of hurting him while he’s still so sensitive. Harry pulls him in for a kiss, always loving the taste himself afterwards.

And they just lay there for the rest of the night, holding each other close and feeling the other’s chest rise and fall with every breath they take. It’s always been like this, preferring to feel each other’s love through actions instead of words. One, because at the beginning, Louis didn’t know one single word of letter of sign language, so instead went for showing his love through buying Harry roses and chocolates and other trivial things that meant so much more to them than anyone else. Two, because it’s just the way they work.

Louis begins to drift off, hours after the sun’s set. Harry picks him up bridal style, carrying him to their bedroom. He sets the older boy down gently and lies down beside him. Harry pulls Louis close and Louis has unknowingly become the little spoon in their cuddle now. And just before Louis completely loses consciousness, he presses his thumb into the back of Harry’s hand, something that becomes their signal for before they go to sleep, meaning ‘I love you, beautiful.’ Harry reciprocates the sign, before letting himself drift into sleep as well.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry may be deaf but he can certainly hear Louis.

They resume normal routine easily. Louis attempts to make breakfast at least edible and Harry eats it (with a lot of gagging and exaggerated faces). There’s cuddling and dinner dates and night outs to clubs and staying in to watch movies. They begin to think everything is on the path to the way it was before, with no drama besides the occasional name calling and being spat at.

Watching The Last Song on the television (it’s all they could find!), Louis entwines their legs, their feet curling together and thighs resting on top of each other. Harry looks at Louis with such love and adoration in his eyes - Louis sometimes jokes that he’s surprised there aren’t actual hearts coming out of Harry’s eyes. Though he’s not really one to judge, because his face is sure to mirror a matching expression.

“ _What?_ ” Louis signs, the quick slide of his fingertip across his opposite palm. Harry scrunches his face in confusion (Louis thinks he looks like Liam when he does that, makes it look like he only has one eyebrow). “ _You’re looking at me funny!_ ” Louis moves his fingers clumsily - they’re starting to numb from the chill now that they’re not interlocked with Harry’s own.

“ _I just…_ ” Harry doesn’t seem able to make himself sign the words, his fingers not conveying what he wants them to. 

“ _Take your time._ ” Since Louis can’t make his tone soothing (for obvious reasons), he relaxes his face, hoping to go for a calming expression.

“ _Can we use the whiteboard? My fingers are cramping._ ” Harry doesn’t give Louis much of a choice (not that Louis would have said no), and pulls it out from their side table drawer and onto his lap. Louis’s a bit grateful for the whiteboard, because Harry signs so slow. Harry does everything like that, lazy and languid, never rushed or frantic. Louis thought Harry was signing like that for his benefit at the beginning, since he was still learning sign language, but he’s come to realize that’s just how Harry is. 

Louis likes watching Harry write, too (yes, he understands that his obsessions with Harry’s hand are unhealthy, please leave him alone now!). He loves the way the muscles in Harry’s forearm clench as he grips the marker or pen or pencil or whatever he’s using to write, tightly in between his fingers. His hand writing is atrocious, letters compacted close together, barely any form of spacing between words. Each letter and syllable and word are like a family, wanting to stay together, clingy. It’s much like Harry’s own personality, Harry always searching for comfort and solace in the nearest breathing body, gripping tightly so there’s no chance of whoever it is could slip away - though it’s usually Louis and why would Louis let go?

Harry writes until there’s no more room on the board and Louis is scrambling to find him paper and a pencil. Harry writes with no sign of stopping until he finally does stop, fingers ceasing their movement and lessoning their grip on the pencil, letting it fall onto the paper with a dull thud. His face is guarded now, expressionless save for his eyes - his eyes will always betray him, Louis has learned. Louis has also gathered over time that he’s exceptionally excellent at getting Harry to open up, no matter the issue and no matter how much he wants to curl up into himself and never crawl out of bed.

Louis takes the whiteboard first and promptly begins reading the words that have been quickly scrawled.

_Louis, I was feeling extra sappy last night, after you had fallen asleep. Or, well, at first it was self-loathing. I was really feeling low last night, thinking that I couldn’t do a thing right, or that nothing about me is right. I’ve been told by multiple people throughout my life, that I’m not worthy of living, of breathing the air around us. All because I’m deaf, because I wasn’t granted with the present of hearing when I was brought into this world. I always want to say ‘I didn’t ask to be brought into this world in the first place, let alone brought into a world where I can’t hear anything and ignorant people like you are trying to bring me down.’ But I can’t say that, because they’re literally too obtuse and thick and dense that they want nothing to do with me, thinking I have some sort of disease. And that’s just because I am unable to listen to the words they speak, what happens when they find out I’m gay? I shudder at the thought._

_But those self-loathing thoughts soon turned to something else, when you started  gripping onto me tightly. I thought maybe you were having a wet dream, perhaps about to reach your climax and I could tease you about it relentlessly. But that wasn’t it at all, was it? No, I realized when you lessoned your grip on me and nuzzled your head into my neck, that you were thinking about cuddling me. That was it, just cuddling. And God dammit, like I didn’t love you enough before. It was so cute, the face you were making. I just wanted to pet your hair and snuggle with you until the sun rose and then maybe so other sappy and cliché things. You looked so innocent (and maybe I wanted to shatter that image of innocence, but we don’t need to talk about that.) And I just…that’s when my thoughts turned sentimental, of how much I loved you and the things I loved about you and how we met and why I love you. I was a right mess, all watery-eyes and sighs of content. You do these things to me, Louis._

_I just love everything about you - even the things I hate about you. Does that even make sense? It makes more sense in my head. It’s embarrassing to write out. Actually, it’s embarrassing to write out any of these things, I’m not really one for expressing my feelings. But you bring it out in me, maybe it’s by forcing me to talk about something I don’t want to talk about, or just…being there when I do want to talk about my feelings. You’re such a beautiful person, Lou, inside and out. You bring out the best in people, no matter how rude they’ve been to you._

_I love a lot of things about you. Your smile, and how it crinkles up the corners of your eyes - you’re sure to have laugh lines before you’re thirty. You’re always so cheerful, even when you wake me up and I whack you with a pillow. Seriously, you just smile through it, my pillow hitting you and me telling you to ‘fuck off.’ Really, some people may find it annoying, how you’re always so happy and smiley, but I think it’s one of your best qualities. You’re adorable with children, especially anyone under the age of six. It’s quite cute, charming, and makes me want to fuck you into the mattress. I know you’ll never get pregnant, but we can try - we can try a lot. I love the way you look when you sleep, almost like you’re a child again. I just want to cuddle up to you and never let go. I love the way you smell just after you take a shower, like my shampoo you try and convince me that you don’t really use, though both you and I know you use it more than I probably do. I love how that smell differs at the end of the day, when we collapse into bed - it’s almost an unidentifiable scent, something along the lines of cotton and citrus combined, but it’s lovely and tickles my nose every time you allow me to be the big spoon, or when I snuggle deep into your chest._

_I love you a lot, Loubear, if that isn’t obvious by now. I want to hold your hand and never let go, kiss you until you’re dizzy from lack of oxygen. I want to be the one that makes you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick. I want to be the last thing you see before you fall asleep and the first thing you see in the morning. I want you to miss me when I’m not around - I want cute ‘I love you’ texts and photos of what you’re doing, so the separation will be so intense that when you get back we’ll have mind-blowingly (is that even a word? I can’t be sure but I’m using it any way) rough sex then the softest and sweetest of love making right after. I want the feel of your lips on my body to be both warmly familiar and achingly foreign. I want to give you all the love my body has to offer, and even then it won’t be enough. I want you and only you._

_I love you, Louis Tomlinson, I really do._

_My hand hurts from writing all of that, but there’s more - don’t worry, it’s nothing like the novel I’ve just written. Just…I went to the store yesterday, while you were taking a nap. Well, not the store. Well, a store, but not like, the grocery store or anything like that. I went down to that jewellery store, the one we went to with Lottie that one time. I wasn’t sure what to get but the lady helped me. I think you’ll like it._

Louis looks up quizzically at this point, eyes wet and leaking tears and glowing in the golden light from the lamp. He looks so happy, face alight with almost a childish excitement as he watches Harry pull something from his pocket. It’s a long and thin box, black colored with a velvety feel. Louis takes it. He opens it slowly, which is painful for both of them - Harry wants the anticipation of not knowing to be over and Louis wants to know what Harry’s so flustered over.

Louis gasps when he sees it’s a beautifully crafted silver chain, with what seems to be a paper airplane charm hanging from it. Upon closer inspection, he notices the engraving on one of the wings. 

In graceful cursive handwriting, ‘H + L’ with a small heart beside it have been inscribed. Louis begins crying even more now, pulling Harry into a tight embrace and sobbing into his shoulder. Harry’s not sure if it’s a good sign or a bad sign, and instead just rubs Louis’ back and wishes he could soothe him with words and sounds.

Louis pulls away just enough to sign, “ _Oh Harry, you shouldn’t have!_ ”

Harry shrugs, as if it’s nothing, when reality he’s having a freak attack on the inside. “ _I thought a promise ring would be too cliché._ ”

Louis’ eyes widen as an idea enters his mind. He allows himself to entertain the thought for a quick second before signing quickly and with shaky hands, “ _So what is this?_ ”

“ _A promise necklace. Louis Tomlinson, one day I’m going to marry you. I hope that’s okay with you, but really you lost all choice in the matter when you made me fall in love._ ”


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry may be deaf but he can certainly hear Louis.

The weight of the necklace around Louis’ neck was comforting; much the same way a worn-out blanket would work to console a crying child or a tight hug from someone you love would reassure you that everything was all right. It supported what Harry had been saying all along, how he would never stop loving Louis and he hoped they would get married. And so the necklace continued to be somewhat of a security blanket to Louis, reassuring him that Harry was not planning on leaving any time soon.

Harry smiles every time he catches sight of the necklace, hanging loosely from Louis’ tan neck. It just sits so right upon his collarbones, metal shining and creating a tinkling noise every time he moves. Harry loves it. 

Their friends give them positive feedback, commenting on how the necklace compliments Louis in every way, and is a beautiful representation of their relationship. If Harry has a tear in his eye when hugs them thank you, everyone turns a blind eye to it. Their friendship stays much the way it was before, only now the boys tease them even more, saying their display of affections burn their eyes. Their gatherings are full of happiness and warmth; it is home in all ways that count, even if it’s not a physical thing. 

Often Harry and Louis get distracted by each other, breaking off mid-sentence (their signing hands dropping to their sides or laps) and gazing into the other’s eyes. Their gases are full of passion and just plain love. The boys feel like they’re intruding on a personal moment. 

One time in particular sticks out in all of their minds, because it had led to some weird conversations…

***

“Sorry, mate what was that?” Louis asked, turning his head to give his attention to the blonde. He looked fond but frustrated. 

“I was just talking about how I called you the other day but you didn’t answer because you two were too busy making a butt sex sandwich!” Niall exclaimed exasperatedly, hands working furiously as he signed what he was saying to Harry. 

Zayn looked at him like he was going crazy. Making sure to move his hands to where Harry could see them, he questioned, “What the fuck are you on about, Horan?” 

Niall gave them all a disbelieving glance, like it was such a shock that no one could understand him (really, he should be used to this by now). “Like, you know, Louis’ butt cheeks are the bread and Harry’s dick is the -“ 

Louis cut him off. “So I’m the one that automatically bottoms? Really? Do I just give off that vibe?” 

Zayn nodded his head in agreement. “You give off the…’just fuck me already, dear lord’ vibe. And your butt is pretty awesome. I mean, if you weren’t taken by Harry I’m sure I have shagged you already.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes at the raven-haired boy. Moving his hands angrily, he signed, “Really, Malik? That butt is mine and mine only!” 

Louis smiled fondly at his boyfr - no, his fiancée. Niall interrupted him when he spoke loudly, “But Louis you don’t bottom?”

Harry answered the question for them all with a shake of his head. Louis explained out loud (and with his hands for Harry’s benefit), “Harry likes to be dominated.” 

Liam wrinkled his face in disgust. “That’s more than I cared to know, really.”

Niall’s eyes glistened with mischief as he threw his head back and laughed. “That’s actually hilarious. Louis is like…tiny. And Harry’s…not. I’m sorry, but that’s just too funny.” 

Harry threw a pillow at the blonde to silence him; it worked, Niall closed his lips and turned his attention back to the movie that was playing on the screen, as did the others. That’s just how they were, something happened, they talked about it (well, usually it involved yelling and such) and then everything was normal again. 

***

Everything is normal now. Louis and Harry take a walk every evening, no matter the weather, swinging their hands calmly between each other and signing long, detailed conversations. They had never been happier. 

They often hung out with the other boys, maybe meeting up some night in the week or a day in the weekend. They joked and laughed much the same as they had when they first met.  They were together and it was fun and Harry had everything he needed. 

Louis left him little notes every night on his nightstand, declaring his love for the younger boy. Harry kept every single note, folding them up. He used some as bookmarks and some he placed in his scrapbook of all of his favorite things and some he kept in his pocket to make him smile when Louis wasn’t around. 

They planned their wedding, their mothers offering their input much too often for either of their liking. They settled on a summer wedding on the beach, not this upcoming summer but the summer after next; so Louis would have time to properly propose. He figured that since Harry gave him the promise necklace, he should be the one to propose. Harry will probably propose anyway, just because it’s something that he really wants to do. 

They’re happy. 

Their families give their approval whenever the chance, butting into conversations and gushing over how fantastic the wedding will be and how cute of a couple they are. They sound like teenage girls, and Harry giggles at the thought. 

“Oh, Lou,” Jay says when she’s visiting, sitting on the couch opposite her son and sipping a cup of steaming tea. “I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were born.”

“To come visit me in my shitty home and sip tea with me on my couch that’s falling apart?” Louis appears confused. 

“No!” Jay laughs loudly. Louis would shush her but someone hearing her isn’t really a problem. “I’ve been waiting for you to get engaged!”

“Well I have properly proposed yet…” Louis grumbles, setting his empty mug down on the table. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. Harry could still leave me.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“But there’s always that one little bit of paranoia.”

“Then properly propose!” Jay says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“Soon.”

\- - -

It turns out soon is a month later, when they’re laying in bed, tangled around each other. Louis fumbles in the dark for the ring, finally finding it. He pulls it to him by the chain. 

Harry looks confused, eyebrows drawn tightly together. He doesn’t know what’s going on and can’t see very well what’s grasped tightly in Louis’ fingers. 

“Harry,” Louis signs with the hand not holding the ring. “You are my world. I can’t imagine a life without you and I don’t know what I did before you. Will you marry me?”

Harry can only bite back tears and nod. 

He hadn’t thought he could get any happier, but he did. 

\- - -

Harry proposes too, in much less of a grand gesture (not that Louis’ had been that grand…)

He slips the ring from his pocket and the. Quickly slides it onto Louis’ fingers. Where Harry wears his around his neck, so it falls nears his heart that beats rapidly for Louis, Louis will now wear his on his finger. Harry will feel it whenever they hold hands. 

They turn into the couple every turns to for advice. Everything is better than okay. And it will only continue to get better. 


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry may be deaf, but he can certainly hear Louis.

Their wedding is outdoors, in the early afternoon. The forecast calls for rain, but it holds off until every one is inside at the reception. Harry was the one who walked down the aisle, Louis saying he wanted to watch Harry walk towards him (and their future). Everyone cries and tells them they’re lovely and their mums pity themselves because they feel old and their friends give speeches and every one laughs. 

Louis and Harry are ecstatic, and that feeling will stay with them for all of their marriage, a high they will continuously ride.

\- - -

They honeymoon in California, flying across the ocean because they wanted to go someplace sunny, someplace they were guaranteed to have good weather. They feel like the exact definition of tourists, with their cameras and having to stop and ask for directions every thirty minutes. 

They spend all day in the sun, walking or visiting tourist attractions or laying on the beach. Harry gets a terrible sunburn the first day and learns that he needs to apply sunblock regularly because of his fair skin. Louis doesn’t need to apply sun screen because he doesn’t burn, only tans. By the end of their week, he has a healthy glow to him, while Harry looks burnt and agitated. 

At night, they crack open the windows in their hotel room, having to have gotten the only room without air conditioning. They’re courteous to try and keep quiet since there’s a chance people can hear them out the windows, though Harry let out a few extremely loud moans one night, not having been able to hear himself and therefor control himself. 

They return to England happy and glowing (well…Louis is glowing, Harry is just red and burnt) and ready to start their new life. Things don’t really change in their home life, the whole marriage thing aside. They’re still active in the bedroom, Louis attempts to make breakfast every morning, they go for walks. They’re better than happy. 

They look into adoption, something Harry’s always wanted to do, even when he thought he was straight and going to get married to a woman. He’s just really always wanted to adopt. 

It takes a while, but finally they bring home a tiny five year old girl named Karsen who demands to be called Karli. They obey her every wish, running out in the middle of the night to buy her whatever she wants. She’s spoiled and will probably end up to be somewhat of a brat, but the fact that she has two dads and one of them is deaf helps keep her grounded. 

She picks up on sign language quickly and easily, her fingers nimble and moving at a speed that Louis almost signs. Harry is impressed, having never met someone who could sign that fast. 

Karli (or as her birth certificate says, Karsen) is imaginative and creative and hyperactive and picky and moody, but they love her to the moon and farther and then back again. She completes their family, bringing even more joy and laughter and lightening up the atmosphere and climate of the household. 

They kiss her goodnight every night, Louis singing a lullaby (Harry’s fingers pressed to his neck to feel the vibrations) and Harry signing a fairy tale he’s made up in his head during the day. 

Louis thinks he finally knows what it’s like to truly feel content with your life and Harry’s finally found the place where he’s accepted. 


End file.
